


Are We the Bad Guys?

by softnotlizzie



Series: Tommy's Interludes [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Gen, Honestly I hate tagging, Hurt No Comfort, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP Spoilers (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softnotlizzie/pseuds/softnotlizzie
Summary: Here we go again lovelies! Tommy Innit has been exiled! (I'm very angry :)) This is may take on his inner monologue. An important note for this one is that it's not 100% canon compliant! I mixed it up the way I wanted it. This one will definitely have a part two because it was already longer than the others but i want to include the post-exile events. Hope you enjoy!! Thanks SO SO Much for the support, I love you all!!!!
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, Floris | Fundy & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Tommy's Interludes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033278
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79





	1. Are We the Bad Guys?

**Author's Note:**

> again, feel free to let me know what you think! or if there's anything i can do better! find me on tumblr under the same user, its where i mostly hang. love youuuuu. LOGCHAMP

“They’re my discs.”

“Selfish.”

“This is all your fault.”

“Why did you even make him Vice President?”  
“I’m asking myself the same thing…”

“Are we the bad guys, Tommy?”

In less than an hour, Tommy had apparently added hundreds of words to the collection that ran through his head every night when he failed to shut his mind down just long enough to sleep. This was often. He’d mentioned the last to Tubbo, and that had honestly ended up being more vulnerability than Tommy had been planning on showing. Obviously, things hadn’t really gone according to plan.

These phrases and more ran through his mind constantly. It was only ever a matter of if the day was one he could work with. Most days, it was actually easier to distract himself from the voices when things were bad. Yesterday, Tommy hadn’t been able to shut them off all day. 

Today was a new day, though!

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. 

He had one day until his eternal fate would be determined. Technically, he should’ve had two, but Tubbo—overachiever as he was—demanded that the decision be made prematurely. Tommy didn’t want to throw Tubbo under the bus. He didn’t want to put himself further into his best friend’s bad favor, but it almost seemed as though Tubbo was ready for Tommy to be gone.

He’d considered it. 

Tommy had sat on a bench, Ranboo by his side, Techno barely noticeable in the distance (by the way, what the fuck, motherfucker), and considered it. 

He knew that some things would be easier without Tommy there. Of course, he knew. Not only had he been told plenty of times, it wasn’t like Tommy was unaware of the chaos he caused. The resolution was that in most cases, the chaos was justified or worth it in the end. So, if he left, he knew that Tubbo would live a more peaceful life. His consistently tensed muscles might relax. The crease between his eyebrows might soften. Maybe Quackity would get a promotion he deserved. Maybe Ranboo would hold a brand-new position of power. Either way, L’Manburg would be in considerably less danger.

But then, Tommy believed, it wouldn’t even be L’Manburg anymore. 

L’Manburg was barely holding on by a thread without Wilbur. They’d lost Eret as well, and poor Niki had been struggling to find the heart to involve herself ever since then. Without Tommy, Fundy and Tubbo would be the only original members holding it together. And Tommy didn’t think it fair. The four of them had fought for L’Manburg together, had created something truly beautiful. The situation with Tommy currently was already fighting so many of the L’Manburg values, and if he was actually forced out, Tommy couldn’t imagine what would happen to it.

Fundy and Tubbo.

Tommy had nothing against Fundy. He didn’t fully trust him, but he hadn’t fully trusted anyone but Tubbo ever since the Eret incident, so that wasn’t saying much. Fundy had betrayed them, in all honesty, and he’d fought for Schlatt until he simply couldn’t anymore. Tommy commended Fundy for what he’d done for them during that final battle. He was thankful, and he knew Fundy deserved every ounce of recognition and more that Tubbo could offer him. 

And Tubbo? He absolutely would’ve been able to hold L’Manburg together, even if he was the only one left. That is, if he weren’t being threatened by every possible predator in a thousand-mile radius. Dream wanted chaos. Technoblade wanted anarchy. Schlatt was not dead enough for comfort (yes, Tommy knew about that). Sapnap was too powerful to be neutral. Even fucking Quackity had the full power and potential to go off the rails and fight for the taste of leadership Schlatt had managed to give him. So, if none of that was going on, Tommy would’ve been fully confident in Tubbo’s ability to guard the L’Manburg integrity. 

But it was. 

Therefore, nothing was certain. And Tommy worried both for himself and for L’Manburg about what might happen if they truly did force him out. 

As he sat there, lying motionless on his bed after a night without rest, something he’d found himself doing more and more, Tommy caught himself with an exaggerated sigh.

Hmm. He kept ratting himself out.

With a surge of renewed anger (it was turning out to be the only thing Tommy could use to motivate), he drew himself up out of his bed and shuffled into the next room. He was halfway into his armor when he sighed once again and decided to simply leave it off. Whether it was laziness or some attempt at the weakest form of rebellion he could summon, he wasn’t sure. Didn’t feel like finding out. 

Today…

He knew what he wanted to do. Was sure of it. For the first time in a long time. 

Tommy was walking with a purpose. What a nice feeling. It was only slightly bittersweet. Slightly reminiscent. These kinds of walks usually didn’t end well.

No, no. Tommy pushed that thought from his mind, almost as violently as he wanted to fucking claw Dream’s stupid, nipple-like eyes straight out of his—

Good God. Tommy had been so determined to have a positive day.

It was a much longer walk than he had remembered it being. He passed the TarGay, formerly Walmart, and decided he liked it better this way. Maybe some things got better with change. But then, just moments later, his eyes drifted to the Tubbo House War Monument and rethought it. 

And then there he was, facing an unmarked, inconspicuous pile of dirt, pushed snugly against a cliffside. 

One push, and it would fall through. Tommy knew exactly what lay behind it. He had come all this way just to see it again. That silly little ravine which he’d called home absolutely far too long. He wondered if the buttons were still there. Once upon a time, Schlatt had said he’d laid plenty of TNT under Pogtopia. Tommy briefly wondered what would happen if he went down there and pressed every single one. Surely, something was bound to blow.

He’d come all this way, and yet he would not be going inside.

Tommy didn’t trust himself to not push the buttons. 

“If I can’t be the next Schlatt, then you can’t be the next Wilbur.”

Tommy couldn’t prove Tubbo right before anything had even happened. 

So, despite all that walking he’d done, Tommy turned and walked away. Convinced himself that it had been a good distraction anyway.

Tried to ignore the fact that he could almost certainly feel another presence, as if someone was watching over him. 

It was dark when Tommy made it back to L’Manburg. He had all the plans in the world to simply walk straight into his house and into his own bed. Tomorrow would be a long and terrible day. Tommy had tried to be optimistic about his fate, tried so hard to say, “Tubbo wouldn’t do that.”

…would he?

But the lights were on.

Not in Tommy’s house, but just down the path. He almost thought he was hallucinating, but if you were to look hard, through the makeshift door in the obsidian, the lights of the Camarvan were shining brightly. 

Tommy’s feet were moving before he truly even knew it. In seconds, he stood before the door, fingers ghosting over the metal of the doorknob. What was stopping him? He couldn’t even hear any voices. Maybe someone left the lights on by accident. 

“You’re making the right decision, Mr. President.”

Tommy’s blood chilled. His heart sank into his stomach, then his stomach sank straight through his feet, and was slowly seeping away into the dirt. His mind stopped in a way that made Tommy wonder if he had just up and died, right there and then. His entire body froze, hand just centimeters away from the door. He swayed dangerously backwards, and only manage to catch himself in a panic when he realized that if he made any noise, they would realize he was there.

Tubbo and Dream would notice Tommy’s presence.

As if his instincts were kicked violently into Tommy’s body once more, he stepped away making as little noise as possible and crouched. He stood close to the Camarvan, so much so that the cold of the metal in the nighttime seeped into his body. He could barely feel it. His skin was already practically frozen to the touch. 

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” was the response Tubbo gave. It felt like hours, but Tommy knew it was much more likely to have been less than a minute.

Tommy did not know if anyone else was with them in the van. He didn’t really care. It mattered enough that Tubbo, his president, his best friend, was conspiring with literally everyone’s worst enemy. Tommy endlessly feared what this would mean for him. Fortunately, or very unfortunately, depending on who’s point of view you’re watching from, he didn’t have to wait too long.

“I know you don’t want to do this, Tubbo. I know you don’t want to exile him. But we both know it’s for the best. What do you plan to do, continue to let him run your country on chaos while you pretend to be in charge?” Dream’s voice was so filled with sweet malice that Tommy only heard it because he was looking. He wondered if Tubbo noticed at all.

Tubbo stayed quiet.

“They don’t even respect you, Tubbo. Quackity? Fundy? Tommy? Hell, no. If they want to do something, they’ll do it. You know that. 

“The only way to stop it is by kicking Tommy out. He’s only ever caused problems. Maybe L’Manburg will actually have a chance to survive without him.”

And while Tommy had been so utterly blank just moments ago, his body filled in seconds with that horrible, undying rage. He no longer felt cold. He was burning. Wondered if the metal under his touch would begin to melt.

“I already told you,” Tubbo gritted out, and for his sake, he did sound fairly distressed. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

Tommy let out a breath.

“The decision’s been made. Tommy will be gone by tomorrow night. I guarantee it.”

And then…

In seconds. Less than. Tommy’s whole life felt like it had been dragged out through his ears. Tubbo. Had never sounded so evil. Tubbo sounded so angry. So disgusted. Yet at the same time, far too nonchalant. As if literally resigning his best friend for all of his life to a fate of loneliness, struggle, and madness, was something that could be done in an old, hot-dog drug van. 

Well, Tommy supposed, it was. Tubbo had just done it, after all.

“I knew I could count on you,” Tommy could hear Dream’s sick smirk. He didn’t even have the energy to feel aggravated. “The plan, once more, just for clarity: no matter what is decided in your little meeting tomorrow, Tommy is exiled.”

“Yes.” Tubbo didn’t even wait a single second before answering. 

Tommy had to go.

He really, really, really needed to go. 

He stumbled the first few steps away from the van, absolutely reeling in shock. His bones felt weightless and so heavy at the same time. Tommy panicked for a moment, wondering if he would even be able to walk.

The sound of heavy footsteps traversing in Tommy’s direction seemed to snap him into play.

Suddenly, Tommy was backing away with fervency. He was through the obsidian hole in seconds, and had turned to sprint back in the direction of his house without even waiting to see if he was being followed. A stupid move, for sure. But somehow, he ended up at his house quite alone. 

Panting. Slid down against the iron wall. Noticed that he wasn’t seeing straight anymore. It was dizzy, and uncomfortably blurry, and what the fuck was fucking wet all over Tommy’s face—oh.

Oh.

Tommy thought he had been prepared enough for this moment. Had tried to be optimistic, but knew in his heart that nothing would go right tomorrow. He should’ve known. He thought he already knew. He thought it wouldn’t hit this hard. 

But there Tommy was, crying and fucking hyperventilating on the floor of his house.

It wasn’t even his fucking house anymore. Tomorrow, he’d be forced to leave, and he highly doubted anyone would be sympathetic to allowing Tommy to have any of his things. Should he pack a bag? Should he hide? Should he just go along with it?

For the first time in a considerably long time, Tommy had no fucking idea what to do. He was completely and totally at a loss.

He didn’t know just how long he’d sat there like a pathetic melting snowman before forcing himself up on wobbly legs. Tommy drew in a shaky breath and smacked his own head against the wall a couple times in an attempt to steady himself. Bring the old Tommy back, please and thank you. 

This was a situation which did not have a clear answer. He was absolutely stuck. He no longer trusted his ability to make a good decision. 

Fuck. 

Tommy found himself asking one question. One question that he felt would solve his problem. Would give him the clear answer that he needed to proceed. (He physically could not go on without one.)

What would Wilbur do?

Blow the place up? Probably. 

Fine.

What would the Old Wilbur have done?

Now, that question! That question had an answer. A simple, rational, strategical answer. If Wilbur had somehow managed to get himself in this fucking position—actually, he had, hadn’t he? Tommy and Wilbur had actually been through this whole routine before. But that was different. Tommy had never trusted Schlatt to begin with.

Either way.

Wilbur would take it. Like a leader. Like a president. Wilbur would hear his fate, show no emotion, and allow himself to be led away. Would give up his armor, his tools, everything he owned. Wouldn’t be afraid, either. (Or at least, wouldn’t show it.)

Maybe Tommy could do that. He’d never even been good at calmness. Or having emotions and not showing them. He very obviously could not do that. 

Perhaps Tommy could follow in Wilbur’s footsteps. Just with a bit of his own Tommy Flare. 

In other words: Absolute fucking havoc. 

. . .

Right, then. Tommy had slept well that night. Surprisingly enough. He’d picked himself the fuck up and had given himself a plan. He liked plans. If there was one thing people did not know about Mr. Innit, it was that he loved a good plan, and would certainly follow one rather than play things by ear. So, there he was, plan in mind, in heart, as he put on his trusty mask and began walking. 

There would be no confrontation. (Surprising, he knew.) Tommy would look at Tubbo and pretend that the sight didn’t fill Tommy with anger and insanity and an unbearable, unimaginable hurt. He’d look at Quackity and Fundy and try hard not to realize that it would be his last time. 

Tommy planned to look Dream directly in the dotty eyes of his stupid mask, hoped Dream would feel it in his own soul, and Tommy would smile. 

In the most Fuck You way possible, of course. 

And so he strolled along, with an aggressive tilt, as always. He wanted to give off no indication that he was even nervous about today’s income. Wanted Tubbo to look at him and wonder if Tommy was fucking crazy.

He needn’t wonder.

Tommy was late to show up at the Camarvan, just about ten minutes after the scheduled meeting time. When he entered, Tubbo was concentrated on a map, for some fucking reason, but Quackity and Fundy gave the utter irritated reaction Tommy had been planning on. 

“Fucking finally, Tommy,” Quackity snapped. Tommy could tell he wanted to seem angry, but the words came out anxious and restless. Fundy said nothing, but grinded his teeth as he looked Tommy up and down before returning his focus to the map Tubbo was studying. 

“’Sup!” Tommy shouted, forcing glee into his tone. “Nice day, isn’t it, fellas? Good day for a war, I reckon.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Tubbo said without even looking up. And honestly, that almost managed to throw Tommy off of his tracks. Almost. 

Instead, he made a face at Quackity, as if to say, Well, this one’s woke up on the wrong side of the bed, then. But all Tommy ended up saying was, “Right, then, shall we get on with it?”

“Are you even taking this seriously?” Fundy spoke up.

“Why should I? It’s not like I’ll actually be exiled. We’re only even thinking about it so Dream thinks we care about his opinion.”

“And what if we do, Tommy?” Finally, fucking finally, Tubbo looked at Tommy when he said it. This is the moment he’d been waiting for. “What if you’re gone and done with by the end of the day?”

Surprisingly, it was not Tommy who spoke up first. 

“Tubbo, man, c’mon,” Quackity pleaded.

Fundy added on quickly as well, “He’s right, Tubbo. We’re not going to exile him.”

Tubbo looked from Quackity, to Fundy, to the map, and back to Tommy again. “I know.”

Hmm. Interesting. 

“I’ve come up with…a plan, of sorts.” Tubbo began, and Quackity looked like he wanted to talk, but Fundy silenced him with just a piercing glare. Fundy was certainly on edge today. Tubbo was still looking at Tommy, though, so the younger gave him a motion to go on. “It’s come to my attention that an old friend of ours has come out of retirement. It seems like it might be a good plan to enlist his assistance in fighting back against Dream’s dictatorship.”

“Yes!” Quackity exhaled, before launching into a rant of his own. “Sapnap and George and I have been waiting for you to say that. Karl will tag along as well, I think. We’re all against Dream. The only fucking ally he has is fucking Punz. We can totally take him Tubbo! I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses.”

Oh, Quackity. Though, to be fair, Tommy had almost wanted to believe Tubbo as well. But he was done expecting the best from him.

“So, who is it?”

Fundy looked at Tommy when he spoke. Tommy had dropped the happy façade; he didn’t really need it any longer. 

“What?” Fundy asked.

Tommy sighed. “Who’s this new guy? Or old guy, I guess. The one you think is going to help us take down God.”

Tubbo looked at his hands. That’s how Tommy knew that he would not like the answer.

“Technoblade.”

What. The Fuck. 

This was all Tommy could think. He voiced his concerns. 

Quackity and Fundy seemed to agree. Fundy’s mouth hung open as Quackity absolutely flew off the handle. They were right to be confused and violently so. Technoblade had been the exact person behind their literal downfall just weeks ago. 

Tommy stayed quiet. Honestly, he wasn’t planning on caring what the fuck Technoblade did for Tubbo in the future. 

“Listen to me, listen to me!” Tubbo had to shout over Quackity (and Tommy, who’d thrown in a couple curses just to be safe and inconspicuous). “If we’re smart about it, we can make this happen. We promise Technoblade that if he helps us be rid of Dream, L’Manburg will be the only established government and we will keep to ourselves. After it’s done, Technoblade can do whatever the fuck he wants while we operate peacefully within our own borders.”

That was where Tubbo was different from Wilbur. 

The first president of L’Manburg had specifically not wanted to settle into a confined area. He wouldn’t have let any of their enemies live in peace, even if they had helped at some point or another.

Tommy ended up zoning out as the three of them debated. He caught bits and pieces here and there, and it seemed as though Tubbo was holding his own against his cabinet, to the point where they seemed almost fully convinced. 

“Tommy?” Tubbo asked, in a voice that reminded Tommy of when they were kids.

“Tommy? Where have all the bees gone?”

“They’re hibernating, Tubbo. They’ll be back soon.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now let’s go catch frogs instead.”

“What do you think?”

Tommy snapped back to the present, almost unwillingly. 

“I don’t need to think. I’ve been demoted, remember. My opinion doesn’t matter.” It was a risky thing, to say this, especially with the cold bite Tommy let seep into his tone, but it was true. 

Tubbo still looked calm, but Tommy saw his fingers clench into white-knuckled fists before forcibly relaxing once more. “You’re still Vice President, Tommy. And you’re no longer on probation. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it with your help.”

Tubbo wasn’t really making Tommy’s plans easy on him. Then again, Tommy shouldn’t have expected that he would. “I fucking hate Technoblade. He killed you and he betrayed L’Manburg.” Tommy needed to be careful. He was pushing a line he really should not be pushing right now. “But if it’s what you want, Mr. President, then I’ll help.”

He’d used those same words on Wilbur, once. 

Tommy couldn’t decide if this was better or so exponentially worse. 

He was acting suspicious, he knew that. And if Tubbo hadn’t drawn the conversation in a different direction (how will we do it, anyway?) then Tommy might’ve actually been fucked. For all his work, he could’ve let it slip away just to be a bitch. It wasn’t like that wasn’t something Tommy would do.

He paid no attention to the rest. Worked just a bit to seem unbothered in the good, Tommy way. Not the way that was going to get him found out. In too short an amount of time, Tubbo announced that he’d received the fated message through his comm. Dream was ready for the verdict.

“Fuck.” Tommy said, as if it were an important decree.

He noticed as Tubbo fought against rolling his eyes. “What is it now, Tommy?”

“Forgot some shit. Be right back.” This was the only explanation Tommy offered. He didn’t even care if it was weird, or if Tubbo began to notice something was off. It was only a matter of time. 

Tommy began the walk towards his old house, and did so at a fast pace until he was out of sight from the others. And if it hurt turning away from Tubbo, even Quackity and Fundy, that was Tommy’s business. If he wanted to turn around and give Tubbo a real, actual hug, that was Tommy’s business. And if he said he wasn’t seriously considering actually begging for forgiveness, then Tommy was lying. 

He didn’t turn around, in the end. 

Tommy did spend too long just staring at his own house, though. The memories ran through in a blur. He knew this was his last time seeing it. He hadn’t ever appreciated the dumb thing quite enough. The stone truly was a good block. This house was the first thing on this forsaken land that Tommy had been proud of. He grabbed what he could, and turned around. Did not look at the house again. 

He really shouldn’t have, but Tommy ended up sitting on the bench for just a little too long. Tubbo was surely getting impatient, and if he didn’t hurry, Quackity or Fundy or maybe Dream himself might come looking. So he played no discs. Just sat and looked out on the SMP land in silence.

He wondered for a moment if it was better this way. If he really could’ve just done it all without the discs. He only had Blocks now. 

Tubbo was wrong, though. They were more than just discs. They were Tommy’s reason. Especially now that everything else had been ripped from Tommy’s cold hands, taking pieces of him with them. 

He forced himself to stand. He’d picked a direction last night. Turned left, towards Eret’s looming castle. Tommy could just barely glimpse it in the distance.

Tommy began walking then, and he did not stop. He did not stop when it grew dark. He did not stop when he knew for sure that the others had figured out that Tommy had run away. He did not stop until he felt as unsafe and as lonely as possible. Perfect.

Of course, Tommy hadn’t wanted to go. He just wanted to stay. With his friends. With Tubbo.

But that was no longer an option. He wanted to do what Wilbur would do. Only better.

He did not leave any explosives rigged, nor did he set anything on fire.

What he did was take away the satisfaction. He stripped it from Dream the way Tubbo had stripped Tommy of his dignity. Tommy had taken away their chance to force him out by doing it himself. 

They wanted him gone? 

Fine. 

Tommy was gone.


	2. Sorry!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change of plans...

I'm sorry guys, I know I promised a chapter two but I think a LOT of things happened between then and now. I'm currently neck deep in a new piece that doesn't follow the storyline I set up here but I'm a lot happier with that one. Again, I'm sorry for guaranteeing a part two and never delivering, but I'm really thinking that if you've enjoyed the angsty shit I've produced so far, you'll be happy with what I'm giving you soon. It should be out either tonight (Dec. 13) or tomorrow!! Thank you guys SO MCUH! I love you more than life.

**Author's Note:**

> this was 11 pages on a word doc lol but idk it doesn't feel that long


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